


Hollow

by eyeofthehawk



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Dolorav Tribe, F/F, Little bit of fluff then a bit of angst, Skyspear - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:14:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27979428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeofthehawk/pseuds/eyeofthehawk
Summary: Yasha experiences a bit of happiness before her world turned to a life of control and bloodshed.
Relationships: Yasha/Zuala (Critical Role)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> This bit of inspiration hit me - so since I'm a terrible person I decided to write this as I'm working on Caged Birds. 
> 
> Enjoy.

It started as a beautiful day in the Iothia Moorlands – the landscape remained the same but Yasha waking up to see the beautiful face of her wife more than made up for it. ‘ _Her wife_ ,’ the thought sounds so foreign and taboo to Yasha but so right at the same time. She would gladly take the dismal lifestyle and landscape of the Dolorav Tribe if it means she gets to wake to this beautiful woman every day.

“I would say paint a picture since it would last longer, but I’ve seen your drawings,” Zuala smirks that teasing smirk all while keeping her eyes closed – still not fully conscious but somehow able to tell when Yasha is staring at her. ‘ _Must be the perk of being a hunter_ ,’ the white-haired barbarian thinks before placing a kiss on the sleepy hunter’s cheek.

“I was more thinking about how we will starve if we don’t leave the bed today,” Yasha chuckles as she hauls herself to her feet eyes tracing her wife’s bare skin. Zuala’s eyes finally open and takes Yasha’s breath away – as they always do. the brown eyes that seem to be a mix of all the colors of the shades of wood used to build huts not too different from the one they are sleeping in. The darker skin woman sits up in the bed before grabbing Yasha’s hands which were starting to grab her clothing littered around the hut.

“Well, I could think of a few things to keep our attention away from hunger,” Zuala’s grin splits her face and it takes all the barbarian’s willpower to not give in to the force of nature on the bed.

“Yes, while that would easily sate anyone’s appetite, I doubt it will provide energy for the raid later today,” Yasha remarks all while trying to hide her blush under a wall of white hair before pulling Zuala’s hands closer to kiss them. Zuala gets up from the bed kissing a path up from Yasha’s hips to her face.

“Fine but when the raid is done, I can think of a few ways to pull you out of the battle haze,” Zuala whispers in her ear before turning to find her own clothing. “I found some boar tracks the other week. I’ve been tracking them and found one that should keep us fed for a bit,” the ranger calls out pulling on her pants and breastband.

Yasha feels her mouth water – well water more than what it did at Zuala’s first proposition – at the mention of boar. She reaches out to assist the chestnut-haired beauty in finishing her breastband before placing a kiss on her back – above a scar from an attack from the goblinkin of the Many Hosts of Igrathad when they were emboldened to venture into the Moorlands. Her blood races at the chance to fight those that dare mar the skin of such a beautiful woman – despite the scar being many seasons old and the perpetrators killed by Zuala’s own hand. The ranger turned around upon feeling the kiss on the scar and put a hand on Yasha’s cheek.

“Enough of that – you need to get your facepaint on, Orphanmaker,” she gives a somber smile and then grabs her tunic, cloak, and bow, “Plus _someone_ needs to get the fire ready for the boar.” She brandishes a smile brighter than the sun and walks out the door.

With Zuala on the hunt, Yasha takes this time finish getting dressed – placing the wolf pelt shawl Zuala got for her. Warmed by the shawl and the thoughts of what the hunter has in mind after the raid, she cleans up the scarcely decorated hut, starts a fire in the pit, dons the dark warpaint stripe from temple to temple across her eyes, and starts the final preparations for the raid by sharpening her greatsword. Her ministrations are cut short by the sound of someone approaching and then opening the door to the hut. Without even lifting her eyes she calls out, “I was beginning to think the boar had taken you, Zuala.”

After a beat she looks up and barely schools her reaction to not show the panic that was flooding her system. At the door was not the dark-haired ranger laden with her boons of her hunt, but another woman of whom everyone in the Tribe respected but more so feared. At the entrance to this hut that became more like a home than anywhere else stood the daughter of the Skyspear, Raven Feeder. Should the Skyspear fall in battle Raven Feeder would become the next Skyspear and the woman has ensured that she would easily surpass her mother in terms of exterminating those that dare step in the Moorlands.

Raven Feeder’s towering form stands at the door as she takes in the interior of the hut. Her eyes as sharp as the greatsword in Yasha’s hand and nearly the same color finally land on Yasha with a hint of confusion and something deeper that Yasha’s can’t pinpoint. Yasha’s eyes settle on the close-cropped dark hair to avoid the steely gaze without fully looking away.

“Orphanmaker, I was anticipating Tree Walker to be here,” Raven Feeder’s eyes again search the room before settling on the barbarian on the ground with greatsword in hand. 

Yasha places the greatsword on the ground before standing up and gesturing to the firepit, “She is out hunting. I wanted to help her with cleaning and cooking before bringing it to the raiding party. But she should be back any moment now if you would like to wait?”

“I should return to prepare for the raid. Let Tree Walker know I was looking for her,” the imposing woman finally takes her eyes off Yasha and leave the white-haired woman trying to process what just happened.

Several seconds pass as Yasha stands in silence listening to the crackling of the burning wood and her blood starts pumping in her ears. She turns to take a glance around the room and settles on an innocent object hanging on the far side of the wall. The sight of a lock of brown and white hair braided together is draped within a woven circle of reeds from the marsh. Her heart sinks to her feet after noticing it and finally realizing the reason for Raven Feeder’s piercing gaze.

A reminder of the might she and Zuala became one on the edge of the marsh settles in front of her face. The cutting of a lock of hair from both women symbolizing the sacrifices one makes for marriage. The braiding of the locks of hair to symbolize the unity. The woven reeds used to wrap the hands of the two to be married together. All symbols of a marriage – but a marriage not arranged by the Skyspear – symbols that would usually be hidden by the shawl wrapped around Yasha’s shoulders or the cloak Zuala wore as she left to go hunt.

Yasha starts towards the door of the hut just as Zuala pushes it in, “Found the boar but some damned wolves got to it first. So, I got us a deer,” the chestnut-haired woman states before taking in the look of panic on Yasha’s even paler face.

“Love, what’s-“

“Zuala we need to leave. Raven Feeder-“ the words escape the barbarian’s mouth but is quickly cut off by Zuala.

“What are you talking about? Leave, where would we leave to?” the ranger fires off the questions faster than she fires off a volley of arrows.

“Raven Keeper knows about us. She saw the braid,” Yasha gestures to the braid of hair hanging on the wall, “Please, Zuala, we need to leave before she tells Skyspear.” The pale woman is unable to contain the panic in her voice as Zuala processes the words and her eyes go wide.

The two women run out of the hut too afraid at the implications of the discovery of their marriage by Raven Feeder and most likely at this point the Skyspear. The scarce woods fly by them as they run away from the place, they have known all their life. Faintly, they notice the sounds of yelling behind them and arrows hit the trees or the ground near the two as the run.

Yasha feels an arrow slice her bicep and opens her mouth to tell her wife to keep running before an arrow sinks into her thigh. The words twist into a cry of pain as she topples. Behind her she hears cheers and turns to see her fellow warriors beginning to close the distance. Zuala turns on her heels, running back to her wounded wife. Her usually calm face contorts to fear and then rage as the ranger fires two arrows at the approaching warriors. The two arrows hit their mark and embed themselves in the chests of two of the warriors. Realizing running is now moot, Zuala assists Yasha to her feet as the two women stand to fight. The group of warriors close the gap and encircle the married couple.

“Don’t kill them yet,” the calm voice of Skyspear rings out in the lightly wooded area. Appearing in an opening of the group of approaching warriors is the long raven-haired matriarch of the tribe. Adorned in an intricate breastplate and an intricately carved spear of ivory bone rests in her hand. She launches the spear at the two women and as it leaves her hand it turns into a burst of lightning.

Zuala rolls out of the way of the lightning bolt but still feels the lightning arc into her body. However, the wounded Yasha fails to dodge it and cries out as the lightning causes her body to tense in pain. Yasha watches the bolt of lightning transform back to the spear as it flies back to the waiting hands of the Skyspear.

“We welcomed you into our tribe and this is how you repay me,” the Skyspear yells to the women struggling to get to their feet as her warriors seem enraged by the comment. Yasha looks towards Zuala as she fires two arrows at two approaching warriors and with her own battle cry before swinging her greatsword at two other warriors. The four warriors fall into a lifeless heap as arrows fly to hit the ranger in the shoulder and leg. Yasha turns to snarl at the archers until she feels one longsword slash her back from hip to shoulder before another plunges in her back and exits out her front. 

“You get to watch as we kill her Orphanmaker – then we’ll keep you alive long enough to wish you died before you even joined the tribe,” Raven Feeder snarls in her ear as she twists the longsword before jerking the longsword to the side – cutting Yasha from her gut to her side.

“YASHA,” The white-haired woman can barely hear her wife crying out her name as she places her hands on the wound and feels her innards press out of the gaping wound. Her vision starts to go dark as she watches Zuala fall under the clubs and swords of their former tribe. A kick to Yasha’s back sends her sprawling to the ground as her eyes remain locked on her nearly unconscious wife. Yasha slowly starts to crawl towards her wife until a longsword sinks in her back and pins her to the ground. Blood flies out of her mouth and dripples down her chin into the earth below. Bleeding heavily Yasha watches as the Skyspear approaches Zuala while Raven Feeder digs the blade deeper into the earth.

“I hope you enjoyed this little bit of disobedience, Orphanmaker. We’ll keep the two of you out to feed the animals – perhaps then you can be of use to the tribe,” Skyspear sneers as she places the blade of the spear on Zuala’s chest pressing deep enough to draw blood as she drags the blade up to the ranger’s throat.

“I love you, Yasha,” Zuala tearily says as the barbarian woman continues to bleed out into the ground. Tears pour out of Yasha’s eyes as she watches the Skyspear raise the spear before piercing Zuala’s chest.

“I’ll fucking kill you all,” Yasha grinds out as more blood escapes her mouth and her eyes remain locked on her wife’s form. The blade in her back is removed and the weight of Raven Feeder is presses onto her wounded back.

“Only in your dreams, Orphanmaker,” Raven Feeder says forcing more weight on the bleeding barbarian. Yasha feels the blade enter her body again as it pierces her chest and bisects her heart. She bleeds out watching the fallen form of her wife as the threat remains on her tongue.

\-----------

A day passes as the fallen bodies of two women start to return to the ground. Thunder reverberates off the scarce woods as lightning arcs across the sky. Two different color eyes open at the sound of the thunder. The exhalation from the woman is drowned out by the rush of wind. As she gets to a kneeling position, she feels rain hitting her body. Her long hair falls in her face and it just looks wrong as she realizes that it should be white – or so she thinks it should.

Her eyes then focus on the dead body near her and then with a cry that almost sounds like thunder. Darkness flows out of Yasha and skeletal wings flare out of her back as she finally approaches her wife. She sits there grasping her love’s fallen form for several hours until the sounds of footsteps approach her through the numerous pools of water around the two women.

“Well, what do we have here,” a voice calls out from behind her and with an animalistic snarl she turns to attack the approaching figure. His red skin and wings cause her to stop in her tracks.

“I’m Obann and perhaps I can help you,” the velvety voice calls out to her and she doesn’t notice the burning on the back of her neck, “Tell me what you want the most?”

“To kill them all,” Yasha snarls as she carefully places her wife on the ground and then the world turns to darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Saw a post on Tumblr that perhaps Yasha died when Zuala was killed. So I cracked open Explorer's Guide to Wildemount and devoured every bit of lore on Hollow One.   
> Then when trying to figure out what the hell item Skyspear would use I found the entry on Ruin's Wake and goddamn if that didn't sound like the exact thing she would have.
> 
> Stay safe. Stay healthy.


End file.
